


Cannibals & Canucks

by n_nami



Series: 31 Cockles AUs in 31 days [10]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, ice hockey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_nami/pseuds/n_nami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Jensen/Misha stories - a new installment is posted every day throughout January 2015.</p><p>Nr. 10: In which Jensen and Misha play for the Vancouver Canucks - but there's history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cannibals & Canucks

**Author's Note:**

> So I went to a hockey game a while ago... and this happened.  
> Also: Go LA Cannibals!

“Hey Jay,” Chris smiles into his beer.. “Tell me somethin'…”

And Jensen doesn't like the sound of that, not at all, because he's about to reach that glorious state of mellow, post-victory buzz, and Chris is about to kill it. “Wha',” he drawls, not even pretending to be stoked.

“Tell me somethin' about the new guy,” Chris looks up then, probably to stop Jensen from fleeing to the bathroom.

“What about him?” Jensen asks as nonchalantly as possible after having met Chris' determined eyes and realizing that there's no way out of this for him. So Jensen holds onto his beer glass and hopes.

“You tell me,” Chris shrugs. “There's gotta be something, or else you wouldn't be... like that ever since he made the team.”

“What should... Look, I know him, have known and trained with him back in middle school and high school and we were friends before we lost touch with each other during college, alright? So?” Jensen decides to challenge Chris on a professional level. “What's the big deal, besides the fact that I get to defend the goal of someone who I have played with before? That's pretty ideal, after all. And it works, I mean, were you there on the ice today with me? Yes, you were and did we win against the Kings? Yes, we did. So?”

Chris' smirk has grown wider all throughout Jensen's protest, and Jensen has a hard time containing his temper. Right when the tension of the game was seeping out of him, too. Just great.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Chris states smugly, then takes a long drink from his pint glass.

“Whatever,” Jensen shrugs and drinks, too. He has a feeling he's gonna need it.

“You know what I mean, though,” Chris smirks some more and Jensen wants to punch him in the mouth. “There's history, and not of the ice hockey kind. So spill.”

“No, there isn't,” Jensen rolls his eyes so hard that he's afraid for a second that they might get stuck. 

“I don't buy it.”

Jensen shrugs. “Why should I care?”

“Because,” Chris leans across the table, elbows firmly planted on the wooden surface, pint glass in hand and the smile wiped off his face. “I am your team captain. And as such, I'd like to be informed if my goalkeeper and my best defense player have personal history with each other.”

“Like I said, we don't,” Jensen sighs. “Why don't you just shut up, captain or not.”

Chris squints at him. “You've got that look. You're not lying, but you're not telling the truth either, so I'm just gonna sit here and wait until the beer does its work or else you just tell me now, because I will get it out of you even if it costs me some top-shelf whisky.”

Jensen groans. “Really?”

“Really,” Chris nods, dead serious.

For a minute, Jensen is silent He tries to ignore Chris' stare, tries to get up to flee to the bathroom, gets held up by Chris, sits back down. Eventually he groans again.

“Okay, fine, there is personal history, but not of the bad kind,” Jensen admits. “I'm not telling you one word more though until I've got some Laphroaig here.”

“Alright, fair enough.” Chris gets up to order two tumblers of whisky, and is back sooner than Jensen would like. “Now.”

Jensen takes a good sip, lets the smoky burn warm his mouth and belly, then bites his lips before saying, “First off, you should know that I'm gay.”

“What else is new? Go on,” Chris waves it off.

Jensen splutters. “You knew?”

“Of course, dumbass. I've been your best friend for the past three years.” It's Chris' turn to roll his eyes.

“Glad that's out of the way, then,” Jensen says, still working around the surprise. “So, second, Misha and I never had anything going on.”

“But you wished that you did?” Chris squints again, which means he's going to notice every detail Jensen decides to lie about now.

So he goes for the whole truth. “There were times when I wished that, yes. But it's more complicated than that. Misha had this... you know, crush on me, since middle school or something. And in high school, when we played together, he asked me out. Thing was, I wasn't comfortable with the whole gay thing back then, wouldn't be for years after that. But he was my friend and I liked him, so we still hung out until, you know, college and training and getting into the NHL came along. In hindsight, though...”

Jensen averts his eyes, can't stand looking at Chris' pitying expression.

“He's the one that got away,” Chris says, so quiet that Jensen can barely understand him over the noise of the bar.

“Yeah,” Jensen swallows around the lump in his throat. “And you watch too many chick flicks,” he jabs at Chris, trying to cover his shaky voice.

“Sure,” Chris says with a forlorn look into space. “Ever thought of coming out?”

“Nah, why would I?” Jensen bites his lips again, stopping at the taste of iron. “All the trouble, for what? Haven't had a relationship in years.”

“Does Misha know?”

“I don't think so. At least he hasn't hinted at anything in the three months since he's been with the team.”

Chris swirls his whiskey in his tumbler glass and empties it in one go. “But you get along fine, don't you?”

“It's like we never stopped being friends,” Jensen nods. “It's weird. It feels weird.”

“He's single, too, right?”

“Far as I know,” Jensen rubs the back of his neck, refuses to acknowledge the heat spreading on his cheeks.

“I betcha you know,” Chris chuckles, and Jensen huffs.

“But, you know, just in case you ever decide to go public... the team's behind you. We had a gay player before you who wasn't really out, but it was an open secret. The guys are cool with it.”

“That's... good to know,” Jensen stares into the table now, which sports a fascinating wooden growing pattern.

The waitress refills their whisky, then, and the rest of the night won't stay in Jensen's memory.

Jensen is kind of grateful for that.

***

When they return to their home base in Vancouver after the away match, Jensen compensates for that night with a trip to his local gay bar of choice.

He only manages to see Misha from afar, then hightails it out of there and decides to settle with his own left hand, even if in his head, there are blue eyes and plush, full lips wrapped around his cock.

***

Chris doesn't know when this started to turn into gay chicken, but he's pretty sure it was somewhere around the time they started training for the play-offs.

All he knows is that his favorite defense player and the best goalkeeper the Canucks have had in years seem to be closer than ever. They seem to dance around each other, seeing who will either take the next step or end this misery; always taunting, touching, sharing looks that make Chris want to book them a hotel room and tell them to finally fuck it out. They also seem to have revived some kind of ritual of their old days, consisting of a quick pat on the shoulder and bumping their helmets against each other's before the start of every game.

Which seems to be good luck, because they're walking straight through to the play-offs.

When they go into their first play-off game, the tension in the stadium is tangible. The team is both excited and short on patience with each other, which is why Chris had to pull Aldis and Chad apart earlier in the locker room.

It's a home game, so each of their names is announced with great applause from the fans. It's an exhilarating feeling, motivating beyond any words their coach Jeff could've said before the game.

When the Starting Six are announced, the whole procedure begins anew, with the announcer saying the first name of the player and the crowd shouting their last name.

Naturally, Misha is the first to be mentioned, Jensen as one of the defenders right after him. The crowd is already over the moon, seeing their favorite players on the ice.

While Chris still waves at the fans when they yell his name at the arena, he notices something from the corner of his eye.

Neither Jensen nor Misha are wearing their helmets when they go for their ritual. The pat on the shoulder seems a bit stiff, and the bump of their heads is softer today. Which all explains itself when Jensen leans forward to press a firm, lingering kiss onto Misha's lips, right there, and the crowd cheers and boos or frowns or jumps up and down. Chris is still busy picking up his jaw from the ice when the referee whistles them to the middle for the face-off.

Jensen pulls on his helmet and takes his regular position behind Chris. He nods, and Chris mirrors it. It's time to concentrate and play.

At the end of the game, Misha meets Jensen halfway to the exit and lifts him up, heavy goalkeeper gear not withstanding, and spins in a circle before he sets a laughing Jensen back on his blades. They've won, with a hard-earned seven goals to zero, three of which Jensen flipped into the net himself, and another two of which he set-up for Chris and Aldis to make.

Not that the Sharks didn't put up a fight, but Misha surely played one of the best matches of the season, catching every puck with a laser-like focus and hands as quick as a chameleon's tongue. Nothing went past him today.

And the fans don't really seem to mind them celebrating a win like that with another kiss.

Jensen is beaming with happiness in a way Chris hasn't seen him, ever. Misha seems to share that fate.

“Way to go, guys. Congratulations.” Chris grins when he reaches them, then pulls them both into a hug, and their teammates soon join them.


End file.
